2013.12.27 - The Dream and Darwin
The following takes place several weeks before the listed date, during the school year. Magneto's arrival hadn't exactly been preceded by a lot of fanfare, but he'd certainly created a stir on his arrival. Despite the tremendous dustup between him and Jean- and the explosive battle with their common enemy, Sinister- Magneto's presence had always been viewed as a low-level crisis. The younger students were sent to classrooms on the far end of the building and the senior students were often instructed, firmly, to give Magneto a wide berth. Still, despite everything, Magneto still made regular visits to the Institute, to stay in touch with Charles and one or two other mutants there. His arrival today had come of a sudden- a knock at the door, the other side of which had Magneto standing on the porch. Polite as ever, the young student had nervously led Magneto to the atrium, then promptly fled to find the first grownup he could find. In this case, Scott happened to be in proximity. Scott makes his way down the hall towards the Atrium before the startled student can say the word 'Magneto', directing his Civics class to make their way to the rear of the Mansion even as he steps out the door. His brow furrows as he walks, fist clenching and unclenching at his side. A moment later he rounds the corner into the Atrium. “He's not here,” he begins stoicly, forgetting his manners as he's prone to doing around the Master of Magnetism. "Inconvenient," Magneto remarks with a minute frown. Dark haired and clear-eyed, he looks barely older than Scott himself, save for the authoritative way in which he speaks and the severe look in his eyes. "Has something gone awry? We were to have had lunch today," the Imperator says cooly. "And I was hoping to see Lorna as well, while I am here." Magneto's vaguely distracted gaze, which always seems to be taking in everything at once, suddenly locks onto Cyclops with laser-like focus. His eyelids drop minutely as he narrows his eyes at Scott. "Is there a problem, young Summers?" Magneto says, his polite tone becoming something hard-edged. "I do not think I care for your tone. It ill becomes a host to be deliberately insulting to a guest," he reminds him, in the tone of a schoolteacher reprimanding an errant student. "No, I am Charles' guest," Magneto corrects Scott with that same tone. "Do you require a remedial lesson in elementary etiquette? The duties of host and guest are quite plainly spelled out in Miss Post's book, which I believe is available online for a paltry sum. This is your home, and /etiquette/ states that it is the duty of all lodgers to treat a guest as the master of the house would." "And I find myself quite unconcerned about my status as a terrorist. Diplomatic immunity has simplified my legal status immensely." "Yes. Does your immunity extend to the Professor? How about to Lorna? What about all the children here that have nowhere else to go? It just means they can't hurt you." Scott clicks his tongue. He respects the Professor. He would die for the man's dream. But this is one aspect of Charles Xavier he truly doesn't understand. This friendship. And it shows in the anger, usually buried so deep beneath the surface, bubbling up. "You can wait here," Scott says flatly, gesturing to one of the nearby sofas, "I'll let the Professor know you're here." One side of Magneto's mouth curls up into a tight semblance of a smirk, and he makes no move towards the sofa. "It galls you," Magneto says with cool certainty. He makes a vague gesture. "These blurred lines between friend and enemy. Between myself and Charles, with Lorna, with your own dear Jean. 'How far from the tutor must the student stand?'" he says with the tone of a man quoting an old axiom. "It must rankle to see the people around you trapped in a world of grays when it is all so black-and-white. But you have always had such monochromatic vision," Magneto points out. "Ouevers of scarlet. Rose-colored glasses tend to paint the world in a certain light. I think it has quite narrowed your ability to examine alternate viewpoints." He paces a step closer to Scott, eyes still penetratingly focused. "What an example you set for your students. Friends and enemies only," Magneto tsks. "A world of hellish, total absolutivity." Scott stands his ground, arms still folded. "I don't owe you an explanation. There's only one man I need to justify myself to and he sure as Hell isn't you. You might've carved out your little kingdom to lord over but that doesn't make you a saint or a hero. Maybe those mutants you've got working for you think you are but what about the people you've displaced because you don't think you can live with them? Or that they deserve to live with you?" "Darwin at work," Magneto says with a dismissive gesture. "The strong flourish. The weak perish. Those who can contribute to society stay. I do not coddle the hangers-on and parasites of the world that retard the evolutionary process." "It took time to purge the weak and useless," he concedes, keeping that steady gaze on Scott, unruffled by the man's outrage. "Taking Bastion was a bloody venture. Hammer Bay was forced to concede control to me after it became clear that an 'open, accepting' society founded on anarchic principles could not sustain itself in the face of adversity. So what of the tens of thousands I saved on Genosha?" he asks of Scott. "By stepping in and assuming leadership of my 'little kingdom', I have ensured the survival of thousands and that the genetic legacy of mutantkind will live on." He looks around the Institute with a grim expression. "Meanwhile, you talk of peace and dodder around this school, coddling infants and denying their birthright and heritage. Are you so ashamed of them," he asks the man, looking at him again, "that you hide their talents from the world?" "They're not hidden," Scott counters, "They're safe. We teach them to control their powers. We teach them that it isn't their right dominate just because they're stronger, or faster or smarter." He takes a deep breath, internally resolving himself to carry on with his train of thought. "Do you even hear yourself right now? Two races being unable to live together? You're talking about Darwinism and here you are dropping back fifty years. Apartheid. Jim Crow. That's what you're doing. You call it Darwinism but history calls it something else entirely. You of all people should be able to see that." "I am not referring to antiquated tribal notions such as class or creed," Magneto says with an irritated flick of one hand. His brow darkens at Scott's words 'of all people'. "You are confusing the issue with your own preconceptions. Genosha makes no discrimination for such petty things as appearance or religious devotion. For tens of thousands of years, humanity has slaughtered internally for tribal differences or the color of the skin or for worishipping the same God incorrectly." "We elevate the value of the individual because we measure their worth to society. This is not a battle for social dominance- social engineering is a tool in our arsenal to ensure our survival. We- I- am solely concerned with the survival of Homo Novus. Two species cannot compete for food in the same ecosystem. The ecosystem is Earth- the competitors are humans and mutants. Darwin gives us the why. Machiavelli simply provides the how." “Of course that's how you see it,” Scott replies flatly, “You sit here and tell me I only see things the way I want to see them while you're doing the same thing. You have no way of knowing whether we can co-exist with humans. You're not willing to try. You made up your mind years ago and now you just want to justify it.” He turns and moves away, frowning, “I'm not the Professor. I won't debate with you. I know he's right. I know the Dream can work. All that's left is for you to either accept it or try to stop it – and I won't let you stop it.” "You /want/ the dream to work, Scott," Magneto calls, his voice carrying down the hallway as Scott leaves. "But you do not /know/ it can work." He watches the much younger man walking away- a boy who inherited Charles' legacy and bears it now as a man. "Ask yourself what you really fear, Scott," Magneto says, his voice echoing down the halls. "That I might be right? Or that you might be wrong?" The Imperator grins tightly as Scott moves to find Charles, standing alone in the entryway- a dark presence made more terrible by the uncertainty he creates with his conviction. Category:Log